


my chance to survive the night

by thechapwiththearms



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, In Trousers - Fandom
Genre: 1970s, Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Cheating, Dancing, First Meetings, Gay Bar, Gay Marvin (Falsettos), Gay Whizzer Brown, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Marvin-centric (Falsettos), Meet-Cute, Missing Scene, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Sneaking Out, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechapwiththearms/pseuds/thechapwiththearms
Summary: Marvin visits a gay bar for the first time.
Relationships: Marvin/Trina (Falsettos), Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	my chance to survive the night

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the late 70s and written with Chip Zien in mind but you can imagine any Marvin tbh. Kind of a songfic for the In Trousers number of the same name.

The digital clock beside the bed bore the familiar legend: 2:30 A. M. Its green light cast a sickly glow about the room. Marvin turned to look at the sleeping Trina lying next to him and sighed. She was beautiful, really, and so peaceful, but that didn’t seem to matter. He watched as she dreamed, stirring intermittently and making small, restless noises. This was sweet, Marvin supposed. Perhaps, he thought, if he stared long enough, he could convince himself that he loved her; that their marriage was comfortable and fulfilling; that he _could_ ever love her. He huffed and rolled back over.

He couldn’t.

Marvin picked at his hair, as if searching for answers amongst the mess of curls. Pulling and pulling, he felt as if he might cry. The air in the room seemed to sit thickly in a layer around the bed, and Trina’s presence beside him only stifled him more. With little more debate, Marvin climbed carefully out from under the covers and swung his legs out of bed, making sure to place the bedding back down in his place, as if this would erase what he was about to do. When Trina stirred again, his heart was in his throat, but she eventually settled again and Marvin turned away, making for the closet. He pulled out the first few items of clothing that met his grasp (he didn’t want to risk turning on the light and, frankly, he had never cared much in regard to the way he dressed and he certainly wasn’t going to start now).

_That’s it for girls._

_That’s it for girls._

Peering once more at Trina, Marvin skulked into the bathroom like a criminal, clothes piled in his arms. Still conscious of making too much noise lest he wake Trina or - God forbid - Jason, he removed his bedclothes and went about getting dressed. Once done, he glanced into the mirror above the sink and tamed his hair as best he could, then turned on the faucet to little more than a trickle and splashed some water in his face in a futile effort to calm his nerves. He looked in the mirror again. A sigh.

_Here’s my chance_

_To survive,_

_To survive the night._

Nodding at his reflection as if to try and justify his actions to himself, Marvin made for the door, turning the handle with a trembling hand. Once through, he moved to check on Trina again, but couldn’t bring himself to do so, instead passing by the door to their bedroom and downstairs instead. By the front door sat a pair of beat-up loafers which Marvin slipped on with some haste, but he paused when he saw the pair next to them - Jason’s muddied baseball boots. The kid was hopeless at baseball, but his games were one of the few times they got together as a family anymore. Marvin swallowed thickly, dismissing the intrusive memories.

With this, Marvin took his key off the hook and left. The cool night air on his face calmed him a little, and he shuffled past the front gate of his house, glimpsing over his shoulder as he did so. His feet were soon moving before he had any time to think further about what he was doing. They carried him down sidewalks and back alleys, following a path he had thought about taking so many times before now. He picked up his pace consistently out of both anxiety and anticipation, playing with his key inside his pocket as he walked.

The city was busy despite the time; people were fighting outside bars, yelling drinking songs, and flagging down taxis just as they had been hours before, and would continue to do in hours to come. Marvin found some comfort in this - he felt a part of the throng, and it was somehow warmer and more welcoming than the domestic trappings of his own house. Shouldering through the crowds of people, he made one last turn down a quieter side street.

He stopped. Looking up, a pink neon sign reflected on his face - a large arrow, pointing diagonally down a staircase that would otherwise go entirely unnoticed by passers-by. All of a sudden, Marvin’s hands were clammy and he was almost overcome with dread. Determination, however, seemed to override his feelings of apprehension and he began to descend the narrow, uneven staircase.

When he reached the bottom, a rather imposing man - he must have stood at least half a foot taller than Marvin - placed an arm in front of him.

“You got ID, babe?”

Marvin’s eyes widened at the term of endearment. _Babe._ It was the first time a man had ever called him this, let alone so casually. Finally processing the question, he fumbled for his driver’s license and presented it, clammy fingerprints and all.

The bouncer shined a torch on the card and gestured for Marvin to put it away again.

“Go on in.”

“T-thanks.” _Real slick, Marv,_ he thought to himself.

Upon walking through the door, a haze of heat, smoke, and music filled Marvin’s senses. Donna Summer’s _I Feel Love_ was playing at a deafening volume through a pair of speakers behind the bar, and as he looked around Marvin noted his surroundings. At least a hundred other men - almost all more attractive than himself, he thought, and all certainly better dressed - were crammed into the bar, scattered about in groups. Some danced, some flirted, others chatted at the bar. The bar - that’s where Marvin would start.

Shuffling awkwardly, hands in pockets, Marvin made his way through the crowds to the bar, cringing when he leaned on it and his hand came away sticky.

The barman smiled. “What’ll it be?”

Marvin ordered a cheap bottle of beer. The barman smirked as he collected the money and handed over the drink.

“Thank you,” Marvin muttered, barely looking up.

For a while, he sat alone at the end of the bar, nursing his - frankly disgusting, and now warm - drink and staring down into his own lap. He had often anticipated this night, but had never given much thought as to what he would do once he was through the doors. Apparently, the answer was sit and watch while everyone around him had fun and got progressively more drunk, berating himself inside for not possessing the courage to join them. Toying with the corner of the label on his beer, Marvin contemplated leaving and forgetting any of this ever happened. However, a gentle tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his small crisis and back into the chaos of the room.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Marvin turned around in surprise. The tap on his shoulder had come from possibly the most attractive man Marvin had ever laid eyes on - he stood around six feet tall, had sweet-looking eyes, and sported a slightly grown-out crew cut reminiscent of a sailor from the 1920s.

“Oh- I, uh- yeah, thanks.”

“First time here?” The man smiled warmly.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I’ve never seen you before. That, and you look like a deer in headlights.”

Both men chuckled silently at this. Marvin was well aware that, to everyone else, he looked in out of his depth. And frankly, he was - he had no idea how to carry himself in a place like this. He was endlessly grateful for this handsome stranger’s intervention.

“I, uh- I’m...” Marvin’s voice was uncharacteristically small.

“Closeted?”

“Yeah.”

The taller man gave another smile - suave, yet inviting - and placed a hand tentatively over Marvin’s own, which was resting idly on his knee. Marvin felt like he could die. Leaning closer so he could be heard over the music, which seemed to have risen considerably in volume since the two started talking, the man introduced himself:

“I’m Whizzer.”

“What?”

“My name is Whizzer. Whizzer Brown.”

“Your- your name is Whizzer?”

The man - ‘Whizzer’ - laughed inaudibly, “Yes.”

“That’s...your name? Your _name_ is _Whizzer_?”

“What? Yes! That’s my name! And I’d like to know yours, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“I’m Marvin.”

“Got a surname, Marvin?”

“I- uh- just Marvin.”

Whizzer looked bemused for a second before his expression changed to one of recognition. Though neither man said it, Whizzer quickly drew the conclusion that Marvin was married - or at least otherwise spoken for by a woman. Empathetically, the taller man took the half-empty bottle from the smaller’s hands and placed it on the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Whizzer asked.

Marvin gestured to the bottle, “I already have a-“

Whizzer cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, I meant: can I buy you a drink that doesn’t scream, ‘please assume I’m straight,’ even though you’re in a gay bar.”

“I- okay.” Marvin laughed.

He watched intently as Whizzer ordered two cocktails and told the bartender to keep the change. When they were handed their drinks, Marvin eyed the miniature wooden umbrella perched on the rim of his glass with some suspicion.

Whizzer chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Jesus, it won’t kill you, Marv.”

Marvin tried not to notice his face flush at the nickname. He sipped wordlessly at his drink, noting internally that it was a thousand times better than the godawful beer he had been force-feeding himself previously.

“Do you dance?” Whizzer asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not at all, no.”

“You do now!”

Before Marvin could protest any further, Whizzer linked his arm under his companion’s and pulled him away from the bar, almost causing both men to spill their drinks in the process. The Buzzcocks’ _Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?)_ blared through the speakers (disgustingly prophetic, Marvin thought silently) as Whizzer dragged Marvin through the crush of people on the dancefloor.

Once in the centre of the crowd, Marvin felt clueless. Whizzer was clearly a regular here, and he moved so effortlessly through the hordes of people that the shorter man felt rather gormless next to him. Glancing around, Marvin saw he was surrounded by people who all seemed more comfortable than himself. He looked expectantly up at Whizzer, who met his gaze sympathetically and took his drink out of his hand, moving to place it on a side-table along with his own.

Without a word, Whizzer took hold of one of Marvin’s hands and spun him around, laughing as he did so. The latter stumbled a little, but complied nonetheless, spinning Whizzer around in response. For the rest of the song, the pair swayed a little to the beat, Whizzer occasionally providing sarcastic remarks about Marvin’s awkward stature and lack of rhythm. After what seemed like mere seconds, the song came to an end and Whizzer placed a hand on Marvin’s shoulder.

“What?” Marvin laughed.

“You’re really pretty, you know?”

“I- uh-“ 

“I mean, you’re definitely not doing yourself any favours with that outfit, though, Jesus Christ.”

Marvin chuckled and shook his head, and Whizzer’s hand moved to thread through Marvin’s unruly hair, his gaze softening. The taller of the two inched closer, smiling, and closed the gap between them. If Marvin had died when Whizzer had touched his hand, he had just been revived. He placed his hands on Whizzer’s trim waist. Whizzer pulled away reluctantly.

“Want to get out of here?”

_Here's my chance_

_To survive,_

_To survive the night._

“Definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> I also made a playlist of songs I imagine would play in my made-up late-70s NYC gay bar so here’s that if you’re interested lmao: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2pAAWIbfQP0mVTR7nsTOGN?si=3Zmrg5xkRFKEKI1gc1zSZQ


End file.
